


Feels Like Forever

by RoseByAnyOtherName17



Series: The Distance [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Minor Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Scent Marking, Supernatural Creatures, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseByAnyOtherName17/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName17
Summary: Their first real fight came after Stiles pulled Derek back together when he couldn't do it himself. They shouted at each other without really listening, and afterward Derek just held Stiles close.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This may be it, guys. I've loved writing this, but it's coming to a close in my head for sure. Thank you all for reading :) if you want, you can check out my other works too.

It was March, just over a year after Chicago, that trouble tracked them down at Berkeley.

 

The problem was that, despite their fallout, Stiles was still known across the country as Scott McCall’s best friend, his right hand man. The other problem was that Derek was a Hale, and the name was still remembered throughout the supernatural world. A lot of creatures—and not just werewolves—sought to use the two of them to their advantage. It was laughable, how they swaggered in like they could seduce one or both of them, unknowing of the way they were tied to each other.

 

The first time a young phoenix came into town and cornered Stiles in the dining hall, hand on his arm and too-white teeth smiling up at him, he had politely declined her number. It wasn’t until an abandoned building went up in flames with her at the center that Derek realized that the scent of ashes hovering around Stiles had been _her_ , and that was unacceptable. He had completely freaked out when Stiles came home that day, smelling like fire, and realizing that she had made him smell like that made it all too easy for Derek to wrap his fingers around her throat and squeeze until she swore she would leave. But she wasn’t the first, and when word finally got around that Derek and Stiles belonged only to each other, the tactics changed.

 

Stiles rushed in, full of fury, and ripped the fae who had taken Derek apart after flinging salt across the room. They were hardwired to count it, and were quick about it, but not fast enough to escape Stiles alive. Derek watched everything from his place among the rafters, strung up as a threat to Stiles. He struggled, wanted to fight, but he went boneless as Stiles released him, lowering him to the ground with utter care. “You shouldn’t do that,” Derek gasped when he was gently set down, far too gently for falling through what appeared to be thin air, and Stiles’ knees were buckling under him as he gathered Derek close. He had just enough energy to call Lydia and tell her where they were before he sank to the ground with Derek, surrounded by what was left of the fae (it wasn’t much). Lydia took them home, and Stiles protested weakly when she settled them both in the living room, helping Stiles clean up a bit until Derek could stand on his own and finish for her. Stiles slept right through the night and well into the afternoon the next day, but Derek sent an email off to his professors explaining that he had come down with the bug that was going around campus, and they sent him notes of the lectures and work he needed to do.

 

The next time, Stiles was the one who was taken, taken by an omega who apparently hadn’t received the message that the McCall pack wasn’t looking for anyone new. The omega didn’t take this well, was prepared to rip into Stiles until he was screaming, but Derek arrived before she could lay a hand on Stiles, tearing her throat out with his teeth while Stiles laughed a little hysterically. “Finally made good on that threat,” he blurted out, and Derek was all wolf, but he became human so easily, in time to catch Stiles as he stumbled forward and his laughs turned to sobs.

 

After another omega, one that hadn’t come in with the knowledge that Derek wasn’t up for grabs, Stiles did his absolute best to make sure that Derek would smell like him for days, burying his nose in the space behind Derek’s ear and biting the space beneath his throat. He rode Derek until he couldn’t breathe, and then _kept going_ , rubbing himself into Derek’s skin so thoroughly that every time he inhaled afterwards, it was like a punch to the stomach, just how determined Stiles had been to twine them together. Quietly, when the scent of them both began to fade, he whispered it in the dark to Stiles, just as he was falling asleep. Stiles was up in an instant, pushing Derek’s shirt up and jerking off over his stomach, kissing Derek like he was trying to crawl inside him. Stiles came with a sob, all over Derek, but it was only after the fourth time, a couple of weeks later, that he thought to question it. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into Derek’s hair. “I’m a possessive bastard.” Derek rolled them over and proved to Stiles just how possessive he really _wasn’t,_ and Stiles was limping the next day.

 

In May, Lydia announced that she was going to move in with Parrish for the summer. “It’ll be a good tell on how well we’ll do together when I graduate,” she said. “We can get used to each other. And you two can as well, since you’ve never actually lived alone.” She made an arrangement with the landlord about the lease, cutting her off of it for the summer, leaving Derek and Stiles on their own. Derek took far too much joy in that, fucking Stiles on the couch barely an hour after Lydia was moved out, the way he had been afraid to when she was living with them. She would _know._ But for now, this wasn’t her house too. It was just for the two of them.

 

They weren’t perfect by any means. Derek would rather become a full wolf than have an argument, and Stiles still had a hard time reigning in his magic when he was angry, though he never hurt Derek. Their first real fight was after a wendigo ripped his claws through Derek’s stomach, leaving him gaping open and in shock, unable to heal properly. Stiles lit it on fire with a flamethrower before turning to Derek and putting his hands over his abdomen, whispering under his breath until Derek began to close up enough to heal on his own. That exhausted Stiles almost as much as pulling Scott’s darkness out had, and Derek was yelling at him the second they got into the house. _Stupid, reckless, unnecessary_ all came flying out of his mouth before he could really process, and Stiles was up in his face, shouting right back despite having to hold onto the doorframe to do so. They yelled at each other without really listening to the other or even themselves, until Derek’s throat hurt and the only thing he felt he could do was to turn, to try and run. Somehow, the magic just under Stiles’ skin seemed even stronger that way, aching in his bones. Stiles sank down onto the floor next to him, face buried in his hands, rage giving way to sobs, and it was the first time Derek had really seen Stiles melt into tears like that. He was crawling into Stiles’ lap before he could really think, nudging at his neck and thinking _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_ until he realized he was saying it out loud, naked and clutching at Stiles desperately.

 

After that, Derek never denied Stiles the ability to stitch him back together enough to finish it on his own if he needed it. And Stiles never stopped Derek from settling them both in the bathtub, even though they hardly fit, so he could rub the kinks out of Stiles’ back, until he went liquid and Derek could carry him to bed and take care of him until he was strong enough to get up. He let Derek walk him to his job at the little café the next day, let Derek hold his hand and shove his nose into his hair whenever he felt like it. In return, Derek allowed Stiles to move him any way he wanted the next night, so that he could reaffirm that Derek was okay too.

 

But they did everything normal too. Stiles did the laundry, all too experienced in removing suspicious stains. They shopped together, which always prompted Stiles to call his dad and question him about his diet. Derek liked to wash the dishes by hand despite the dishwasher they had. “It’s what my parents had me do when I was a kid,” he explained to Stiles one day. “It was to help with control, because Mom was really proud of their wedding set, and if I’d scratched those she would’ve thrown me into a tree on the next full moon. Maybe sooner.” He hadn’t really talked about his family before, not with Stiles, not even with Cora. Just this, the little things, made him feel lighter. He found that he liked sharing those little pieces with Stiles and wondered why he hadn’t before.

 

And in return, Stiles talked about his mother. “She was a terrible cook,” he said one day, wrist-deep in raw ground beef. “Dad wasn’t great either, but he could follow a recipe if it were simple enough. I think our neighbor Rosa noticed at some point or something, because when I was three or four, really good, hot meals started appearing at least once a week. Then twice, and eventually she just made enough for all of us, even on the nights that we didn’t go and eat with her. She made Dad take some to work with him when he was on nights.”

 

“So how’d you learn?” Derek asked, dutifully chopping up carrots at the counter.

 

“I mostly just taught myself,” Stiles said. “I wanted to impress Mom on Mother’s Day when I was seven, so I made what I thought had to be really impressive but was actually just pot roast, which isn’t that hard. Dad did the heavy lifting, but he let me chop up the vegetables that went with it and season it and everything, and it turned out pretty damn good.” He concentrated on the meat and whatever he was doing to it (Derek didn’t know, he was just good at following orders in the kitchen unless it was soup) before speaking again. “When she got sick, Dad stopped taking care of himself, and I had to make sure everyone was fed. I snuck her food in the hospital, even though I wasn’t supposed to be allowed. Mrs. McCall was a big help with that.”

 

He stopped talking after that, and Derek chose to steer the subject to Laura’s more annoying qualities instead of pressing Stiles for more. Clearly, family was sort of a bad subject for both of them.

 

They could work on it together.

 

The thought made him stupidly happy.

 

**

 

In the middle of July, the air conditioning went out. For three days straight, Stiles refused to sleep in the same bed as Derek, because he was “ridiculously hot, like seriously, I’m going to have a heat stroke.” Stiles slept on the couch instead, with three fans pointed at him, the ceiling fan on, and the windows open in hope for a breeze. (He was smart about it though; mountain ash lined the whole house).

 

But that was before an alpha passing through with her pack completely ignored the fact that Derek didn’t smell much like Stiles at the moment, what with the lack of touching and the showers in between, and offered Derek a…well, Derek wasn’t quite sure what it was, at best he could describe it as the werewolf equivalent of a one-night stand, because for the most part wolves in other packs didn’t associate. It was only later that he supposed she had probably thought he was an omega, considering the lack of Stiles scent, because as soon as Stiles came back from the restaurant’s bathroom to find her touching Derek’s hand, he was sliding into the booth and nudging her fingers out of the way so that he could twine theirs. The gesture was obvious, and she immediately backed off, but Stiles still made Derek wear his clothes for a couple of days until they left. And the moment the air conditioning was fixed, Stiles was wrapped around Derek like an octopus, as close as he could get.

 

Derek buried his nose in Stiles’ neck and tried to pretend that Stiles didn’t know how much he liked it.

 

**

 

Braeden had been wrong, he thought a couple of days before Lydia was due back. He didn’t need a pack. A pack was great, comforting, but it was something he was perfectly happy without.

 

Being without Stiles, however…

 

He hoped he never had to find out what that would feel like.

 

And he didn’t feel even a little bit selfish for it.


End file.
